[She's so earnest, open in a way he was in the end. Wanting so badly to save the other universes at risk. But knowing what the others had done, leaving him no choice like everything else in his life had robbed him of that spark.
He can feel the sentiment behind the carefully chosen words. He almost wants to laugh at that. It's Hell, dying is a prerequisite... At least for his universe. Perhaps it's different for others. But even through the clean, fresh clothes, that scar in his heart weighs heavy and leaden. He cannot forget what had to be done against everything he'd wanted.]
That's very kind of you to say. But I don't know that I can believe such a hope.
[He finally does open his right palm, that little strip of paper folded and crumpled. He'd clearly kept it for longer than the conversation, having been debating for most of the night.]
no subject
He can feel the sentiment behind the carefully chosen words. He almost wants to laugh at that. It's Hell, dying is a prerequisite... At least for his universe. Perhaps it's different for others. But even through the clean, fresh clothes, that scar in his heart weighs heavy and leaden. He cannot forget what had to be done against everything he'd wanted.]
That's very kind of you to say. But I don't know that I can believe such a hope.
[He finally does open his right palm, that little strip of paper folded and crumpled. He'd clearly kept it for longer than the conversation, having been debating for most of the night.]